


Pillow Talk

by fluorescentmythicalbeastie



Series: Fantastic Beasts Fanfiction [3]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Near Future, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-31
Updated: 2017-01-31
Packaged: 2018-09-21 04:57:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9532463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluorescentmythicalbeastie/pseuds/fluorescentmythicalbeastie
Summary: Newt and Tina spend a night together. While Tina sleeps, Newt thinks.





	

Nighttime crept quickly into the lives of the Scamanders. Their day passed in a whirlwind of Niffler escapes, unpacking moving boxes, and several tea breaks. Often, Newt Scamander retreated to his enchanted suitcase in search of solitude, as well as a halt in the action. He was quite useless when it came to chores and other regular tasks. However, he could spend hours digging through smelly buckets of various meats, preparing each one perfectly for his fantastic beasts to chow on. Thank goodness for Tina, thought Newt as he laid in bed. He was referring to his newlywed wife, Tina Goldstein. Their courtship had been anything but easy—it included (but wasn’t limited to) defeating Grindelwald, rescuing dozens of important (and illegal) creatures over the years, and actively searching for children plagued by an Obscurus. In fact, they did so much that it left little time to each other. Still, there were stolen moments that Newt would remember every day of his life.

 _Perhaps right now is one_ … Newt blinked himself into awareness. The moon had retreated from the clouds, sending silvery beams of light through the open window. Tina rested beside Newt, laying on her side, somewhere in dreamland. She was facing away from Newt, but he didn’t need to be looking at her to know the features of her slumbering face. She always looked quite peaceful when snoozing. The worry lines on her forehead would relax and heal; she radiated peacefulness. _I need a bit of peace in my life_ , Newt concluded. As was typical, he immediately changed his mind at the realization that one might take him too seriously. Peace gave him too much time to think. Newt preferred to labor rather than spend his entire life in some compartment of his brain. Tina was the thinker of the pair, always making sure Newt was on time for book releases and train departures. She even bought him a suit for his birthday! He hadn’t really been in need of one—he found that his Petrol blue coat fit every scenario he could dream of. He had shown up at their wedding venue, adorned in his leather double buckle boots and his other favorite garments. Queenie had a great laughing fit over it, but Jacob (apparently thinking he was doing Newt a great service) called a regular customer of his bakery. With the promise of free pastries for a year resting on his shoulders, the suit designer fitted Newt with a brand new Muggle outfit. To this day, Newt isn’t quite sure what he did wrong.

Tina stirred. Her arm appeared from below her blanket, coming to rest on her stomach. Her baby bulge grew larger by the day. Pride swelled within Newt’s chest, inflating his mood like a balloon. Instantaneously, he felt like celebrating. He wanted to stand and cheer and shout—something that he had never done before—and pick out swaddles and blankets for the newest Scamander. Unfortunately, he had promised Tina he’d come to bed with her. For a married couple, they slept together surprisingly little. That could be attributed to Newt’s habit of working himself to exhaustion in his suitcase, falling asleep on the lumpy sofa. He felt slightly ashamed that his wife had to request that he come to bed with her. He willingly obliged. Newt didn’t appreciate it often enough, but Tina really was a saint.

Upon thinking this, Newt burrowed deeper into the sheets. He shifted onto his side and wrapped his free arm around Tina. He rested his large, calloused hand upon her small one, delighting in the remembrance that his child grew inches below his fingers. A chilly breeze swept through the wind, causing the curtains to flutter. Tina shivered herself into consciousness. “Are you cold?” Newt whispered. Tina nodded lazily. Newt needed no further words to get him out of bed. He whipped back his covers and got to his feet. He lingered at the window, peering out at the English countryside. A small, cobblestone road wound its way through the hill, rarely traversed by anyone but the local farmers. A tall oak tree swayed in the front yard, sighing in the draft. Newt shut the window firmly before returning to bed with an extra blanket. He tossed it over Tina and snuggled himself back into his position.

“Tina?” Newt whispered.

“Mm?” Tina replied sleepily.

“Is that better?”

“Yes, thank you.” Tina heaved a relaxed sigh and pulled the blanket tighter. Newt rested his head against her pillow, absentmindedly drumming his fingers against his leg. It was getting hot under the blanket, so he threw it off of him, letting the cool air soothe his skin. His feet had a habit of getting cold (“The Scamander Curse!” his father would say), so he pounded the blanket into an acceptable shape to cover his legs. He nestled himself back into the mattress, sighing contently. Something began to itch him, right in the spot of his back where he couldn’t reach. Glad for a reason to move around, Newt sat up and began fervently stretching his arms in every position he could manage until he finally conquered the tickle.

“Newt!” Tina’s voice broke him out of his reverie. He sheepishly lowered himself back into the bed. “What’s wrong?” her voice was quieter this time, but still held a note of frustration. He hadn’t meant to wake her. Sensing his apologetic silence, Tina rolled over to face him. He bravely smiled at her. She stifled a grin of her own. “Newt, what’s wrong?” she asked, snaking her hand across the sheets. Newt grasped it in his own, squeezing it lovingly. What was wrong? What was wrong was that he was a creature of habit. His feet constantly itched to keep moving, his hands twitched and tremored unless they had business to do. He could live his whole life trying to change, but nothing could ever extract that feature of his soul.

A rare moment of philosophical thinking adorned Newt. His life flashed before his eyes in a series of millisecond flashbacks. Leta Lestrange, for example. It seemed so long ago, back when Newt didn’t have flecks of gray hair, that Queenie gave Newt a piece of advice. “She was a taker, you need a giver.” The voice is so far away, but Newt can still remember the words clearly. He didn’t understand what it meant, at first. He pondered and questioned until his head split in two. Then, he began to make the connections. He began piecing himself back together, bit by bit. It all started when Tina walked into his life. Leta Lestrange was a taker. She wanted to take away parts of Newt, the parts she didn’t like—the aspects she found insufferable.

Tina wasn’t like that. Tina saw Newt for who he truly was. She didn’t want to change him. Sure, she scolded him for drinking straight from the milk jug, but those were the little things. Tina was a giver. She gave her heart to Newt; all her love; everything she had was Newt’s to bask in. Their hearts were one now. After so many years of life, Newt finally understood where he was meant to be.

Newt reach forward and tucked a stray strand of soft brown hair carefully behind Tina’s ear. Her eyes shimmered brighter than the dazzling moon outside. Feeling properly tired, Newt stretched forward and gave his wife a quick peck on the forehead. He allowed her to roll back over, enfolding his arms around her. They clasped hands and snuggled closer, at last prepared for a night of serene rest. With gleaming eyes, Newt’s whisper faded into the dark. “I love you.”


End file.
